


warp & weft

by whimsicallyconfuzzled



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Historical AU, More tags to be added, adding more tags will spoil this fic, because reasons, like cotton candy, lots of fluff, peasant!reader, royalty!Kuroo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicallyconfuzzled/pseuds/whimsicallyconfuzzled
Summary: In which y/n is a weaver doing her best to support herself and her younger brother Kei. Having fled from the kingdom of Shiratorizawa, you and Kei now call Nekoma your home. When a handsome stranger, bearing the royal crest, arrives with a strange request from the prince, you decide to accept. Like the weave and weft of a loom, this mysterious messenger gradually worms his way into your lives with his strange bedhead, sly grin and amber eyes and it’s only matter of time until the secret you’ve both tried to bury rise to the surface.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	warp & weft

You sigh as you push open the door to your home, the wooden walls squeaking in protest as you close the door. Setting your leftover wares in the corner, you sigh at the bolts of fabric that remain unsold. You had finally gotten a day off from the fields and jumped at the chance to sell your weaving at the market, only for no one to seem particularly interested in what you had to offer. You couldn’t blame them—with the poor harvests from this year’s crop, people were better off filling their pantries with grains and provisions rather than small luxuries like fabric. A hooded man had paid you for the few bolts of patterned fabric you’d woven (though he'd driven a hard bargain), but other than the few silver coins from that purchase there were only a handful of small copper coins in pockets of your skirts.

“Y/N?” Your younger brother, Kei, rubbed his eyes as he sat up in bed, his face lit by the lone candle in the house. “You’re back?” He had come down with a fever that morning, and you had left him with strict orders to stay in bed with a bowl of porridge and herbal tea you made him. As much as you didn’t want to leave him alone, your job helping with the fields was no longer enough to support the two of you, so you had turned to your mother’s craft in hopes of making ends meet for the season.

“Yes Kei, I’m back. Are you feeling better?” You felt his forehead, and were relieved to find that his skin was much cooler than the burning scarlet you had found that morning. Sighing in relief, you ruffle his blond hair as he gives you a hug with his small arms. 

“Much better! I had mom and dad to take care of me.” he replies, pointing to the two tarnished metal bands sitting on your small cabinet. He had only been one or two when they had passed, and you still wish that he could have had more time with them. The night your parents had died was still hard to remember. You remember your mother tucking you and Kei into bed, only for her to shake you awake in the middle of night and rushing you two through the halls. You can vaguely recall he shouts that chased you out of your home, and the crimson glow of the flames shining through the smoke as you ran through the hallway. Soldiers, bearing the crest of Shiratorizawa, had pursued you and your family as you struggled to escape your burning manor. Kei, only a year old, had been thrust into your arms as you were shoved out the back entrance of the building. One of the servants had found you, and the three of you had managed to cross the stream, hoping to flee towards a village in Nekoma that was close to the Shiratorizawa border.

“Y/N, can you tell me a story about mom and dad?” Kei asked, looking up at you with bright eyes.

“Not today Kei,” you murmured. Swallowing the small pang of guilt that you felt, you turned away to start fire in the hearth. Soon there was bright flame crackling, illuminating the rest of your humble dwelling. The few pieces of furniture you had—a bed, a small cabinet with drawers and a chair—along with your loom were bathed in a flickering light.

“Do you want some dinner now that you feel better?” you ask, once you were done with the fire, pulling out one of the leftover rolls the baker had graciously given to you when he was closing shop. As much as you hated the pitying look that came along with it, food was food. If you could get a free meal, you weren’t going to complain.

“We can split the roll and use some of the jam the neighbors gave us—”

“It’s alright, I ate at the market,” you assure him. If eating counted as eating the almost too overripe tomato one of the farmers had tossed from his stand with a stale bread crust from last night. “And if you want to feel better and go play tomorrow you need to have a big meal tucked inside that little stomach of yours…unless you don’t feel like it,” you teased, poking at his stomach.

“Y/n, stop it! You know that tickles!” He giggles, forgetting about his generous offer moments earlier.

“Oh does it now?” You ask before proceeding to pinch his sides. Your little brother shrieks in protest, squirming around in bed to get away from you.

“Okay, okay I’ll eat the roll,” he agrees amidst his laughter. “But you have to promise you’ll let me go out to play tomorrow.”

“Pinky promise,” you say, holding up your hand. He beams at you, eagerly linking his little finger with yours and shaking vigorously.

“Okay you promised!” He declares before snatching the roll from you. As much as he tried to hide it from you, you knew that he was always hungry.

“Alright you little rascal, I get it. Now finish your dinner and then straight back to bed with you,” you instruct before turning towards your loom. You want to weave another foot or so of cloth before turning in for the night. You’d manage to nab a bargain and purchase quite a few spools of red and blue thread at the market yesterday. Although you’d never dream of weaving a luxurious cloth that was purely red or blue, many of the workers, especially the ladies, seemed to like it when you spruced the typical beige fabric with small dashes of blue or red blossoms.

* * *

It was well into the evening when you heard a knock on your door. Kei had long since fallen asleep and you were working on your weaving by the dimming embers of the fire and candlelight. Cautiously, you grabbed the poker from the hearth before venturing to answer the door. “Who is it?”

“I come on behalf of the prince. His Highness would like to request something of you,” a man’s voice responds to your question. You narrow your eyes, tightening your grip on the poker.

“Why would he send someone in the dead of night? Prove that you are not just some idiotic thief who thinks some unsuspecting villager would fall for your tricks.” There is scuffling at the door and you brace yourself for the intruder to force his way again. Instead a golden object is slid under the door. You gingerly pick it up, turning it to reveal a familiar coat of arms adorned with red roses.

“I believe that the royal seal should prove my intentions are free of evil intent.” You grudgingly unbolt the door to let the stranger in, returning the seal to his upturned palm.

“Have a seat.” You gesture to the lone chair next to the hearth. “I apologize, but as you can see, I am not the most wealthy person in the kingdom.”

“It is alright, my lady, you were kind enough to offer me the only seat at your hearth. Who would I be to refuse such a generous offer from you?” the stranger teased.

“Please, I am no lady. At most you could say miss or weaver. But I am no noblewoman.”

“It makes no difference,” he replies, “Any woman with a good heart and kindness is a lady in my eyes.” As he removed his hooded cloak, you quickly muffled your laughter at his ridiculous hairstyle. The ebony strands were spiked almost vertically. Hearing your small chuckle, the visitor turned to face you. His features were illuminated by the dim light of the hearth, and you quickly changed your mind about his hairstyle. It strangely suited him—his almond eyes with warm golden irises, chiseled jaw and high cheekbones combined with his strange hair made him seem handsome and almost cat-like. “Is there something wrong my lady?”

“No, not at all. I was just…intrigued by your appearance,” you said haltingly, turning away to hide the slight blush that colored your cheeks. “What does the prince want with me?”

“He was wondering if you would contribute to the royal gift for the Shiratorizawa kingdom. With the new peace treaty finally signed he wishes to send them a gift…a gesture of good will.” You stiffen at the mention of your old home.

“Shouldn’t he ask a weaver from one of the craft guilds? “ you snap, confused as to why the royal family would seek your weaving. “I’m sure his Majesty could find a far more talented weaver who would be able weave silks or satins. I only weave practical cloths—far too coarse for any kind of royalty to wear or use.”

“But your patterned weaving is far closer to the style of Shiratorizawa, is it not? When I bought your fabric today it seemed—-”

“So you were the customer that paid for that pattern!” You exclaim, remembering the mysterious customer from earlier. You scowled, remembering the hard bargain he had driven for the last of your patterned fabric. “If you’re a messenger of the prince, why were you so desperate for me to lower my price?”

“Well, I—this is awkward to admit but I left my coin purse at my inn.” Your guest rubs his neck in embarrassment, his mouth pulled into a slight pout. “But that’s not the point here! I’m here to ask you to weave bolts of fabric as part of a peace offering for Shiratorizawa. I’ve seen how their craftswomen weave patterns into fabric and your fabric almost replicates their weaving style! Did you–”

“I merely observed the appearance of Shiratorizawa cloth and was able to create a similar effect after experimenting on my own,” you interrupt coldy, cutting off the stranger’s train of thought. Your mother taught you how to weave, but the last thing you need is for the Nekoma royals to know of your past. And that’s _if_ you agree to take on this strange request.

“I only meant to offer you a compliment. The way you seamlessly interweave the patterns is quite beautiful.” You stare at him in silence, cheeks reddening as you realize how snappish you must seem.

“I’m sorry, it’s late and it’s been a tough season. I didn’t mean to offend you,” you mumble, bowing your head in apology.

“It’s alright, I am the one who is intruding in your home at an unusual hour,” the stranger assures you with a small smile. “Will you consider contributing your weaving, my lady?”

“I…I have no thread that is remotely suitable for weaving such an important piece. I highly doubt the prince would be pleased with the rough fabric I make,” you protest.

“Of course. If you agree I shall return with the things you need, provided that you give me a list of the materials I will need to bring back.” The stranger suddenly grasps your wrists, staring directly into your eyes. “Please, the royal court is desperate to create this peace agreement. We’ve been scouring the craft guilds and markets, but we’ve found no one whose weaving can even come close to blending Shiratorizawa and Nekoma weaving styles together. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were one of the only weavers in this kingdom who would be able to weave something suitable for us to give to Shiratorizawa.” You find yourself lost in the depths of his golden eyes and the warmth of his hands—it takes a few blinks for you to formulate a response.

“H-how much would I be compensated for my services? I will have to give up my work in fields to complete your task in time, but I still need to have enough money for my family.”

“That is no problem, for every day you spend weaving until the delegation arrives, the prince has asked me to give you six silver pieces.” Your eyes widened as you heard those words fall from his lips. Six silver pieces a day? That would be more than enough to get you through the rest of the month, even the rest of the year if you spent it sparingly. “And, if he is pleased with your work you will be given a position in the garment garment as an appointed weaver,” the stranger adds. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A hefty income and a position in the craft guild? You’d be able to sell more of your wares with the approval of the royal family and the guild. Eventually you’d be able to afford better food for the two of you and still have some money left over, maybe even enough to buy a toy or two for Kei.

“I’ll do it,” you say, looking into the messenger’s eyes with determination. “When can you return with my materials?”

“Tomorrow, miss….?” He trailed off, You realize you’d never properly introduced yourself to the messenger.

“Y/N. And your name?” You fill in, looking at him expectantly.

The man opens his mouth to answer, but pauses for a moment. His expression turns more thoughtful, if not a bit mischievous. “Rou.”

“Sir Rou—“

“None of that title nonsense,” he abruptly cuts you off, scowling slightly at your formal address. “If I wanted you to address me that formally I would have demanded your presence within the inner city. Please,” he adds, “Rou is just fine”

“Well, Rou, I hope you have a good night,” you say as you usher him to the door. “Please send the prince my gratitude. I am very grateful for this opportunity.”

Rou seems amused by your farewell. “I’m sure His Majesty will be pleased by your reply, Y/N.” Will a small wave and a smirk, he dons his cloak and strolls out of your home. As you shut the door, you do your best to ignore the fluttering sensation in your gut and the slight tingling of your cheeks.

* * *

As he walked back to his stallion, Kuroo was deep in thought. While the royal treasurer had agreed to the wage of six silver pieces a day (after Kuroo had insisted for days), he’d never gotten approval from the head of the garment guild, Sugawara, to offer this weaver a spot. “Great going Testurou, let’s offer her a position that might not exist,” he groaned. Kuroo had no doubt that this mysterious woman would exceed all expectations that that royal court had for the peace offering. Hopefully y/n’s work would impress the enough nobles to earn herself one of the coveted spots as an appointed weaver to the garment guild. Mounting his steed, he nodded to himself. He knew good craftsmanship when he saw it, all he had to do was slip a small sample of cloth to Sugawara at the right time.

“Are we departing your Majesty?” His retainer, Yaku Morisuke, asked. Kuroo nodded, and two of them urged their horses into a trot, leaving the village for the winding road that would take them back to the larger city they had chosen to find lodgings in for the night.

“Did she agree?” Yaku asked.

“Yes, Yaku. I think she’ll be up to the challenge,” Kuroo replied. Looking up at the night sky, he admired the stars as they twinkled above him.

Yaku hummed to himself, weighing his prince’s words carefully. “Well, I hope that you didn’t let your loud mouth get the best of you and demand too much of her. We can’t afford to have her back out now.” Kuroo let out a nervous chuckle. Maybe he should consider speaking with Sugawara when he returns to the capital.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: @cherryonigiri  
> see you next Friday!


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